


Straight to Video

by triscuit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abuse, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Public Humiliation, Rape, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triscuit/pseuds/triscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Cybertronian society at an all time low, many citizens slip through the cracks. Unfortunately, Prowl discovers just how easy it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight to Video

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kinkmeme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13914624#t13914624  
> (Please make sure to look over the prompt for any additional warnings I might have missed.)  
> Terminology:  
> Klik = Minute. 
> 
> I might write more chapters for this, we'll see.

Prowl made it a point to lay low. His life was a series of careful avoidance of the spotlight. He didn’t want to be anything important. He wanted to uphold the law that he felt was important to him. That’s all he really desired. Even in his home life he could only be happy to say he lived in a decent enough home. He ate well enough. He didn’t need anything more. No reward, no acknowledgement, just knowing that those around him were safe.

So why did he hear that terrible knock ringing through his apartment? 

He knew better than to fight. Even if he wanted to, he knew it was only a matter of time until he was dragged back kicking and screaming. So, he sat there. He sat there and he allowed the knocking to grow louder. He could hear the shouting from the other side of the door, and he could hear the loud crack as his door eventually broke down.

He wished he would have had the foresight to allow himself to be crushed under it.

Just as he expected, rough hands wrapped around his arms. Words filled his audio as he was dragged out. Words of positivity. As if he was somehow lucky for being picked to be torn apart. 

Prowl remembered hearing rumors about the specifics of the program. Some hopeful optimists insisting that it was fake. Others mentioning how not a single victim survived the filming. These words drowned him as he felt the grip on his arm tightening. It was painful, but he couldn’t lift his head up to look. 

He couldn’t force a single complaint out of his vocalizer. 

There was mentioning of stasis cuffs. If he was in his right mind he could’ve made a joke. He had plenty of those at home if they needed them. Just as he parted his lips, there was a sharp jolt of pain.

And then nothing.

When Prowl had regained consciousness, he was in a studio of some sort. His optics flickered as he tried to catch sight of what was happening around him. As he sat up, there was a sharp ache through his body. Whatever had taken him out, it was leaving quite the aftershock. Even despite the pain, he needed to gather what was happening. 

He needed to find out what was going to happen.

“Who knew seekers weren’t as popular as they used to be? Guess we’re gonna have to put him out of commission early, huh?” The voice was rough, completely unrecognizable. 

“I don’t see why you’re concerned about it, we can pull ourselves out of the red with that investment. We just need to auction him off tonight. That’s all.” The other replied, sounding deeply unconcerned with whatever they were talking about.

“For a guy named Thundercracker, we didn’t get quite the bang we were lookin’ for, huh?” The harsher voice replied back with a laugh.

This didn’t help. This only made his head begin to feel dizzy all over again. Prowl felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Maybe we’ll be luckier with the next one. When’s the last time you’ve seen a Praxy? I bet everyone’s looking forward to that. Nothing more sexy than a nearly extinct race.” The rougher of the voices picked up again, sounding satisfied with himself. 

The gaudy room felt like it was spinning as Prowl stood up. To his surprise, the only weight to him was his body itself. Not a single chain or binding. Not even a collar. He could run. He could escape if he wanted to. 

Or at least, that’s what he would have thought if he was a fool.

A quick inspection revealed every door was bolted and locked. The only thing getting out was something blue and smudgy in the distance. Something that was kicking and screaming obscenities the entire way out. 

Just as Prowl took another heavy step forward, he heard that loud laughter again. It made him grit his denta together. He wanted to ask what was funny. What could have been humorous about any of this.

But then came the abrupt bright light focused right on his face. It made him dim his optics in annoyance, trying to shield his arm over his face. He ended up knocking into the lighting lightly, managing to push it away a bit. 

“There’s our star… what, you don’t like the spotlight?” This mech was much larger than Prowl. That was revealed with just a quick glance. Even bending over to meet Prowl’s face he was terrifying. He was made of sharp and angular features, covered in dark colors. Despite his size, he felt as if he could disappear into the shadows at any moment. 

There wasn’t a single chance he was escaping. 

“I…” That’s all Prowl could pull out of his vocalizer. The room around him began to stabilize. Smudged details were becoming clearer. Everything was becoming sharper. It was too clear for him. It made him too aware. Without him even realizing it, his body was shaking. 

“Cute.” The rough voice purred, tracing his claws over the fluttering doorwings. “Do you Praxys always do that when you’re excited? Or are you already trying to impress me?”

The red optics of the larger mech felt like they were burning into him. It made it difficult to process anything other than fear. There wasn’t a single plan of strategy or attempt at convincing. Prowl’s thighs pushed together as he tried to suppress the reflex to oil himself on the spot. “P… Pra…” 

“I’m being generous. I’m actually giving you some time to talk before we get to work. Then again, I guess you should be thanking that seeker. Made too big of a mess of the set. We’re still picking up the pieces.” His fingers traced down the doorwings, squeezing onto Prowl’s shoulder too tightly. “But don’t worry, we should be back up in a few kliks.” 

“Praxian.” Prowl blurted out as those sharp fingers dug deeper into him.

“Uh?” 

“Praxy… it’s… a derog… derogatory term… Use Praxian…” Prowl couldn’t believe what he was saying. He needed to be begging for his life. Not correcting the monster that was going to tear it to shreds. 

There was that laugh again, it made him feel so small in all of this. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Praxy.” He finally let go, turning to the smaller mech near the camerabot. It was the one he was speaking to earlier. “Hey, Iro. If the situation’s all handled, we should get started.” 

The smaller mech was terrifying. Where metal and paint should have been, there was something strangely clear. It reminded Prowl of the reinforced glass of some of the buildings in the higher class cities. The glass-like material cut off at the joints of his arms and higher up on his thigh. He couldn’t stop focusing on it, being able to see the inner wiring and circuitry of this mech. What had he gotten himself into?

Why didn’t he try to run? He should have just run.

“Mm, sure. Can you try to do a better job at directing this one, Incisor? We aren’t trusted with the task of capturing this for all of Cybertron for no reason. Do be careful not to let everyone down again.” Iro traced his fingers over the minibot camera, only paying a glance to Incisor. “Shutterbug here has been doing his job just fine. I don’t see why you couldn’t.”

Shutterbug trembled under Iro’s grip, he didn’t pay much mind to it. 

Iro’s voice felt cold. It made Prowl feel distant in this. He wasn’t a participant, he was a spectator. This wasn’t happening to him. He wasn’t the unfortunate one in this situation. It had to have been someone else. He was watching this happen to someone else.

“He’s a camera, he can’t exactly… Look, just get the rest of the crew over here. The first scene’s going to confirm whether or not this is going to be worth it.” Incisor clapped, a few mechs stumbling out of what looked to be a “dressing room” of sorts. “First scene, check to see if this Praxy still has his seal. Then I want one of you to break it while the others hold his legs wiiide open. I don’t want you using your fingers, make sure you use your spike. Keep his arms restrained, too. We don’t want him to be able to put up much of a fight.” 

Prowl’s optics couldn’t have been wider as each callous word leaked from Incisor’s mouth. 

Incisor looked over the group.

“And make sure the one with the biggest spike does it. I don’t care if you have to compare right now. Just make sure it hurts. We want to see energon coming out of him. It’s what they expect.” He clapped once more, settling in one of the chairs. 

Prowl was beginning to speak. Not a single word was coherent. He wasn’t even sure if he was trying to form words. His thoughts were just spilling out. His doorwings were perked up high as his optics were bright.

Prowl stared at them. 

He stared as every single one of those mechs began to stroke themselves to arousal. None of them objected, they didn’t even have the slightest qualm. Prowl couldn’t have been staring at something that was supposed to illicit pleasure from him. Not with the pangs of pain preemptively coursing through his system. 

“Get in position, we’ve wasted enough time waiting around. Remember, the longer we’re dead on air, the more our ratings suffer.” 

Ratings suffering. Somehow that was the most important thing. Prowl couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The way that word was held with such brevity. It made him anxious. 

“Hah! I won. I knew I had a bigger spike than all of you.” One of the mechs said with a laugh. “Looks like I’m first, like always.” He grabbed Prowl by the arm, tossing him on the berth carelessly. 

The room was spinning around him. Prowl couldn’t focus his optics as his mind was overtaken with cruel words. He was being caged in. A dull panic began to pulse through his thoughts. The silk sheets beneath his hands told him this was happening. This was happening, and he couldn’t do a single thing to stop it. 

“Course you won, you got mods on your spike, you cheating slagger.” Another scoffed, hopping on the berth to grab Prowl’s arms from behind. He could hear the soft pop of a joint being moved out of place. His doorwings were flush against a rigid hot surface. “Look, one of you better keep him from whacking me with these things. I don’t feel like getting my face fixed up again.” 

This was happening, and he had to stop it. He had to stop it. 

“Ready?” That rough voice rang in Prowl’s audio.

He opened his mouth to speak. His optics flickering as the light of the set nearly blinded him. 

“Action.” The voice was cold, devoid of any sense of what was happening. 

Sharp fingers dug into his thighs, pulling at his legs. The metal began to bend as each and every finger pried at him, spreading him wide. The joints of his inner thighs began to pop as wiring began to snap. His spark beat faster in his chest as his legs felt painfully close to being pulled out of their sockets.

“Wait!” Prowl’s voice tore through his vocalizer, his back arching against the mech holding his arms back. He was pulling, the wires of his shoulders pinching between his joints. “Wait! There… there’s supposed to… they said… they said…” His voice was getting lost in the laughter, fingers harshly grasping upon his cheeks. 

One of them plunged their glossa deep into his throat, spitting into his mouth as they pulled away. Prowl began to drool on himself, tears fizzling out of his optics. The sick taste of spit rolled down his throat as he tried to will himself to speak again.

“You… you’re s-supposed to drug me. Aren’t you? To… to make me enjoy this. An aphrodisiac, I was tol-” His panel was being dug into with sharp fingers. By reflex, his body had quickly responded in turn. He was wide open, showing his valve for every Cybertronian near a communication device to see. 

“Stop! Stop! You have to stop! Please. I’ll… I’ll give you anything.” He caught sight of one of his assailants reaching down. He pressed his fingers between the soft lips of Prowl’s valve. With one deft movement, he spread him open. The sickening soft sticky noise that followed made Prowl open his mouth wide to scream.

A hand was quickly clamped over him. 

“That’s enough of that.” The mech behind him sighed into his audio. Prowl was trying to tilt his head away, but with every movement the hand remained firmly over his mouth. His spark was pulsing in his throat, his head was pounding. His vocalizer was strangled with each attempted scream he could push out. 

“Would you look at that, Praxy’s still got his seal. Let’s give our audience a good look.” Prowl’s hips were forced up, giving a better view to the camera. He could feel a million optics on him. Prying into him, pulling him to pieces. The writhing of his body was lost with the cage that tightly twisted around him. 

“I guess we don’t got a choice but to pop it, don’t we? Consider it your christening. It’s a shame we don’t have any energon to pour all over your valve.” There was a wet sensation against his throat, one of the mechs beginning to mouth him. The sloppy movements and spit slipping down the side of his neck forced the burn of energon at the back of his throat. 

The rough fingers slipped out of his valve. The mech pulled away from him, causing his spark to flutter in relief. There was a faint hope at the back of his mind. Maybe they wouldn’t do this, maybe they’d change their mind. His own screams finally ceased, and he felt a brief moment of reprieve. 

“Come on, let’s get started.” Out of the corner of his optics, he could see that thick hard spike. It was long, painfully long. As his body was shifted over, he realized that the mech was laying down. He was relaxing, with his arms folded neatly behind his head.

Prowl was being dragged closer, his thighs pulled wide as he was forced to straddle his lap. The joints were still being strained, still dangerously close to being popped out of their socket as he was forced open. They lifted him up higher, before lowering him down again. 

There was something hot and hard pressed against the lips of his valve. Prowl felt a sharp jolt through his sensory system. He began to panic. The force of trying to bounce on his knees to break free from the grasp caused one of the hands to loosen on his mouth.

It was just enough for him to start screaming anything he could think. 

“Don’t look! Please please turn the broadcast off! Look away! This is cruel, it’s just glorified slaughte-” The hand that snapped around his mouth nearly brought back his head with enough force to break the cables of his neck. It caused the room to spin around him. 

The intrusion pressed past the lips of his valve. The way his hips were being manipulated forced his him to lightly brush over the head of the spike. With every agonizing movement his body trembled. He oiled himself, eliciting a laugh from the group. 

“That’s so nasty! What’s wrong with him?” The reclining mech laughed, watching Prowl with a lazy expression. His optics were dimmed, merely watching the sight before him.

Prowl wanted to rip the mech’s optics out. 

As he shook, his mind was focused on anger. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to hurt every single one of them for doing this to him. But with his mind so wrapped up in these thoughts, he didn’t even feel the telltale signs of what was coming next.

Prowl’s body was run through. A knife was digging into his valve, he was so certain of it. With the way energon dripped out of him and with his body violently trembling in agony. There couldn’t have been any other answer. As he was dragged up, a horrible voice filled his audio.

“Who knew Praxys bled so much? I’m impressed.” 

Prowl felt a sob escape him. Even with fingers clamped tightly over his mouth he began to drool. His head was hanging back, and his body was going limp. This reprieve didn’t last long, his body being forced down again. With every hitch of his breath, they only forced him to go faster.

Prowl was practically bouncing on the spike. The energon and traces of lubricant just barely enough to reduce the friction. Even with his innermost sensors being pressed he couldn’t feel pleasure. There was only sharp stabs of pain as the mesh of his valve was being ripped. 

His doorwings trembled as his back arched against that firm grip on his arms. He tried his best, he really did. With every single pull he could hear the snapping of wires. His body was sore, every little movement causing dull throbs of agony to rattle through him. 

With every single glance to the camera lens, his face heated up. It felt so distant, almost fake. How could that lens permit so many eyes to be watching him at this very moment? 

But he knew it for fact, he had caught the end of a broadcast with his own optics.

Forced to take the spike to the hilt, the grip on his hips loosened. But not without encouragement. A hand sharply slapped against his aft, a harsh voice accompanying it, “Go on, ride him. Show everyone how eager your kind really is.” 

Prowl really tried to stay still, he really did try to fight it. But the sharp smacks against his aft forced him to drag his hips up. Slamming himself back down, tears leaked down his cheeks as began to ride the thick spike. Just as his body was beginning to accommodate this rhythm, he felt the spike pushing in deeper.

The mech below him had began to thrust up into Prowl. His loud moans filled Prowl’s audio, making his body shiver with disgust. “Scrap, he’s getting into this. Isn’t he?” He forced his spike up harder and harder, causing Prowl to bounce even harsher against him.

“I… I don’t think I’m gonna la… last…” He suddenly grasped tight onto Prowl’s hips, forcing the metal to bend under his fingers. The mech held Prowl down, pumping his overload deep inside his tight warm valve. With just a brief glance down, Prowl recoiled in horror. He could see the slight bulge in his abdomen. That burning sensation came biting back at his throat.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as his body ached in pain. With one slow deliberate movement, they pulled him off of the spike. As every inch was eased out, more transfluid gushed out of him. The lingering energon leaking through wasn’t lost on Prowl.

As the hand was pulled from his mouth, he could see the camera flickering off. 

It all came rushing out of him. He gave into those harsh sobs, drooling on himself like a little sparkling. His body was practically torn apart, and his mind was slipping through his fingers. His body was flush against the sheets, and he felt the heat of the other mechs long gone. He wanted to be left alone to rust, he just wanted to disappear. 

There was a faint murmuring, and a small cheer.

Large hands looped under his arms. He was limp as his body was pulled up. His optics dim, he could barely make out the image of one of the directors staring right at him. Prowl opened his mouth to speak, but he only let out another pathetic cry.

Incisor leaned close, kissing Prowl right on the mouth. He pulled away with a large grin, showing off his sharp denta. “There’s my little star. It looks like you’re a big hit, all of Cybertron loves you.” He let Prowl fall through his hands, allowing him to rest back on the bed. “So go ahead, take a five minute break. You got a lot of work ahead of you.” 

Prowl’s muffled sobs clogged his own audio. He could barely hear those words being forced onto him. He just wondered why even despite his agony, he couldn’t have missed the next phrase that slipped from the director’s mouth.

“By the looks of these ratings, we’re going to be keeping you here a long time. So why don’t you enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame? You earned it.”


End file.
